


Chokers and Skirts

by PhilosophicalRune



Category: Sanders Sides, Sanders Sides (Video Blogging RPF) - Fandom, Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gender Dysphoria, LAMP family feelings, M/M, Makeup, No Smut, Rated T for swearing, Roman in a skirt and makeup, Virgil in Makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 09:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13005231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhilosophicalRune/pseuds/PhilosophicalRune
Summary: Virgil has a secret; he occasionally enjoys wearing makeup and a choker. But he never wears any of that stuff in front of the others. One day, his foray into femininity is discovered by Roman, who is surprisingly understanding.There is a nice bit of LAMP family feelings here, and minute amounts of Prinxiety and Logicality if you squint.





	Chokers and Skirts

_This is the most surefire way to ensure that you’ll be an outcast again._

Virgil stood before the bathroom mirror, leaning his head against his reflection, the door behind him locking his secret away from the others. He gripped the cold ceramic of the sink tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to swallow the intrusive thoughts entering his mind.

It was so ridiculous. What was wrong with wanting to wear something more...feminine? Even though Thomas was, to quote Roman, ‘a manly man that is manly’, he had been known to dabble in appearances and activities deemed to be feminine in nature. Virgil knew this fact for certain; he had put up a huge fuss during every single video Thomas filmed with Ben J. Pierce. But the more comfortable Thomas himself became with putting on makeup, wearing pink, and dyeing his hair purple, Virgil found himself with a sudden attraction towards some things feminine.

Perhaps Virgil was being influenced by Roman, who was perhaps the most feminine of all the Sides, or perhaps he had seen a lot of people on Tumblr and MySpace posing with edgy dark makeup. But all Virgil really wanted to do right now was just... _ try _ it.

And thus his secret was lying on the edge of the sink. There were four simple objects. One was a tube of mascara, one was a tube of deep purple lipstick, and another was a deep purple eyeshadow palette. The fourth was what was going to prove to be the most problematic; a choker.

Surfing the internet with a furtive desire to see whether other men like Virgil ever felt the need to ‘spritz themselves up a bit’ as Roman put it, Virgil had uncovered a whole side of Tumblr inhabited by not only men who were bright and bubbly like Thomas and Roman, but also men like Virgil. They were men who maintained a dark aesthetic but who also applied lipstick and a weird thing on their neck that Virgil later learned was called a choker. There was something appealing about the lattice pattern of a choker, but Virgil wasn’t sure whether or not he’d like the feeling of it on his neck.

So he had been a bit skeptical when he had conjured one. It was a simple thing, an uncomplex pattern similar to infinity signs but with one purple bead hanging from a silver thread. He had stretched it in his hands, slightly unnerved by the elasticity, but he had slipped it on anyway. Fiddling and twisting it until it settled on his neck in just the way he had seen in the pictures, Virgil had assessed his sensations. The purple bead was an unusual and cold weight in the notch between his collarbone, but it didn’t feel...that bad. It fit his neck in such a way that it wasn’t noticeably loose, but he also didn’t feel suffocated.

Now, in the present behind the closed bathroom door, Virgil slipped the choker back on. It was by now a familiar weight, as he had posed with it in the secrecy of his room, and the bead no longer felt like a growth on his neck. Shrugging his hoodie off, now clad in a sleeveless black T-shirt, he admired the choker from all angles. It seemed to accentuate the tendons in his neck, and he had to admit that it certainly lent him a bit of soft edginess. He felt a strange... _ shift _ in his very being, as if his whole concept of himself was being changed by his brain’s incessant need to be more traditionally feminine. It was scary, yet tantalizing.

All restraint suddenly left his mind as he snatched the lipstick off the sink and began to apply it. He applied it with perhaps more fervor than was necessary, for he smeared it a few times and had to restart twice. After a few minutes, he smacked his lips together. Ben made it look so much easier in the video, but Virgil thought he himself did an acceptable job. It was no blending masterpiece, but it certainly made him feel like a model from  _ Vogue _ . He parted his lips, and admired the white of his teeth against the deep purple. A furtive glee welled up in his chest, a satisfaction tinged with guilt. Slowly, he was beginning to understand why Thomas was getting more and more attracted to wearing makeup and indulging in his feminine side.

It was with a grin that Virgil next opened the mascara and began to apply it with gentle strokes. He laid it on a little thicker than he had originally anticipated. After a few moments, Virgil fluttered his eyelashes, liking the soft shadow his eyelashes cast upon his cheeks. He couldn't help but let out a little giggle of appreciation. Any intrusive thoughts trying to worm their way into his mind were forcibly blocked out as he realized how much fun he was actually having.

Eyeshadow. Now here was something Virgil was more familiar with. This time, he had a whole new palette, something called ‘Midnight Mist’. Cracking it open, he grinned at all the color that was now before him. Previously, he had only owned black eyeshadow. Bit boring, but he had an aesthetic to maintain. Now, he had blacks, silvers, dark blues, and purple. And now, he was going to apply the eyeshadow to where it belonged; his upper eyelids.

Perhaps a creative aura was leaking from Prince’s room and under the bathroom door, for Virgil found himself dabbling layers and blending colors all over his eyelids with a sense of artistry he rarely possessed. He started with an initial layer of aubergine, then layered on a thin slice of silver as eyeliner, and then completed the look by making the best black smoky eyes of his life. When he blinked and tilted his head at varying angles, he felt an inexplicable happiness and pride bubble in his chest. Pulling a pout that was completely uncharacteristic of him and running a hand through his bangs, he tried to growl in the way Thomas had in the video. He was pleasantly surprised with the results.

But he was cut off mid-growl by the sound of the door swinging open and the sound of a man mid-song. A scream of shock and terror was strangled in Virgil’s throat when in entered Roman, who had just began belting out ‘Honor to Us All’ from _ Mulan _ . The Prince immediately stopped when he heard the eyeshadow palette that had fallen from Virgil’s terror-seized hands clatter and shatter on the floor. The creative side looked up, and was completely startled by what he saw.

Virgil was standing stark white against the sink, his hands frozen in claws before him. His hoodie was swamped around his bare feet, and he was dressed in torn black skinny jeans. In between the the large tears, Roman could distinctly see fishnet stockings. As his eyes traveled upwards, he saw Virgil wearing a sleeveless black T-shirt that appeared to have once been a T-shirt but it had been roughly torn by scissors; tangled, fraying ends fluttered softly in the draft.

But what really shocked him was the choker around the anxious side’s neck. It was a simple thing made of black lace, but the deep purple bead trembling under Virgil’s rapidly moving Adam’s apple was almost too beautiful to bear. He felt himself becoming slightly faint when his eyes finally alighted upon Virgil’s lipstick, mascara, and eyeshadow. It was rough in nature, but that somehow contributed to the edginess.

“Great Disney in heaven!” Roman proclaimed softly, his arms falling limply to his sides.

Virgil averted his gaze, whimpered, and quickly bent down to retrieve his hoodie. He looked like he was about to sink away when Roman grabbed his shoulder and cried “Wait!”

Virgil froze, whether in discomfort at the contact or in obedience to his wishes Roman was unsure. He still didn’t meet Roman’s gaze, his cheeks and ears growing bright red. His blush increased further when he felt a gentle hand running through his hair, but he forced himself to look at Roman.

To Virgil’s utter surprise, Roman was not looking at him in shock, or disgust, or even mockingness. Roman had a look of pure wonder, his eyes wide and shining. He was brushing Virgil’s bangs out of his eyes so that he may better survey the makeup Virgil had been so proud of just moments before.

“Virgil, I...you…” Roman murmured, licking dry lips. Virgil cringed, waiting for the mocking to start.

It need not be said that Virgil was thusly completely astounded when Roman then breathed “You look absolutely  _ radiant _ .”

Virgil turned to stare at Roman, but his breath caught sharply in his mouth. How,  _ how _ hadn’t he noticed that Roman was also wearing makeup? Roman had gone a lot heavier than Virgil would ever be comfortable with, using foundation, setting powder, contour, and lots of other stuff that Virgil probably didn’t know about, as well as a dark red lipstick, thick lashes and eyeliner, and golden eyeshadow.

With barely any restraint, Virgil trained his eyes down to Roman’s entire figure. There, he received another blow of shock; Roman was clothed in a  _ crop top _ , one that was loose, slippery, and a deep, bronze-gold. It did not cover his shoulders and neck; rather, it covered his chest and only part of his arms. It looked as if the designer had had trouble creating the garment, and, in a fit of rage, had removed the shoulders. It fluttered in the slightest of breezes. Virgil could see Roman’s belly button, a part of him that was shrouded with a faint shadow of downy brown hairs.

Roman was also wearing, holy  _ fuck _ was he wearing a  _ skirt?! _ Indeed, a skirt of the same loose, flowing quality as the crop top that started with a thick, black elastic band and flowed into a deep rose red garment that stopped just above the creative side’s knees hugged Roman’s slender waist. It had two layers; the first, closest to his body, was a solid, heavier fabric that was deep red. The second layer was translucent red of the same hue, but was a thin, fluttery lace; the prettiest of curlicues and designs were cut into it. Virgil was so busy looking at it that he barely noticed that Roman was also wearing high heeled, black sandals.

“...You look pretty radiant yourself…” Virgil mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, a part of him that was no doubt blushing as hard as his cheeks and ears. He was staring resolutely at the ground, his shoulders slumping as he saw his destroyed palette scattered on the tile.

He heard Roman chuckle, and saw his almost criminally elegant knees bend as the creative side knelt down alongside the palette. Virgil watched as Roman swiped his hands over the debris on the floor, and his eyes widened with shock as the broken plastic and decimated powders mended instantly. Roman rose, and with him Virgil’s gaze. A soft smile unlike any other smile Virgil had ever seen Roman wear parted the creative side’s lips as he handed Virgil the newly repaired palette.

“So…” Roman said quietly, “Is this one of your new ‘Hog Wild Styles’? Because if it is, I approve of it wholeheartedly, my chemically imbalanced romance.”

Virgil blinked, and met Roman’s gaze. It was so unusual, having such a softspoken conversation with the normally blustery and obnoxious royal, but now, in this tiny bathroom, he felt...safe. The ridiculousness of the situation would hit him later; who knew that one of his strongest bonding moments with Roman would take place in their shared bathroom when they were both wearing drag?

“...Y-You do?” Virgil whispered, his suspicion being replaced with a much more lenient shyness. He linked his ankles together, and tilted his head to the side. He could feel the bead quiver as he swallowed, and he could feel and see Roman’s gaze following the movement.

“Well, but of course!” Roman said, his voice growing a little closer to its normal volume, “I thought I was the only one who actively enjoyed indulging in my more...princess side.”

“I-I don’t do this often,” Virgil immediately stammered, feeling the need to defend himself even though the evidence pointed to the notion that, for once, Roman wasn’t going to poke fun at him.

Roman smiled understandingly. “It can be a daunting feat at first, I know.”

There was a gentle silence as the two sides considered one another. Seeing each other in this particularly vulnerable situation made them both realize that they were both...human. They were both actual beings with feelings and thoughts. Suddenly, their differences didn’t seem so large. They shot each other tentative grins.

“ Yeah...you never really know whether...never really know whether you’ll be looked down upon because of it or not,” Virgil murmured, swallowing thickly as he voiced his deepest concern about this whole ‘indulging in his princess side’.

“You certainly have nothing to fear from me, Verge,” Roman said, “And I doubt you have any reason to think Logan and Patton will judge you either. Patton would love you even if you killed someone and Logan _ obviously _ doesn't understand high fashion”-at this point, Roman did a small twirl and flicked his hair, making Virgil giggle- “So who cares what he thinks? So long as you are comfortable with your style, you shouldn't have to care what we think!”

“Gee, I wasn’t expecting a pep talk from  _ you _ today. Especially when you’re wearing a crop top and heels and sandals and makeup.”

Roman snorted, but had the grace to nod in agreement. “Do you take constructive criticism or suggestions?” he asked.

Virgil hesitated, but at the warm, encouraging glint in Roman’s eyes, he nodded.

Roman grinned, and, with a wave of his hands, conjured a pair of black fingerless gloves. Virgil squinted at them; they were leathery, though they had the same fraying edges as Virgil’s shirt.

“Put these on, it’ll complete the look” Roman instructed, handing them over.

Virgil, perplexed, did as he was told. He flexed his fingers, turning his hands every which way as he looked. He bit his lip, and looked uncertainty upwards for Roman’s response.  He couldn’t contain a giggle and he couldn’t stop his shoulders from shrinking into his neck when Roman whistled appreciatively and grinned widely.  

“ _ Yaaass _ boy!  _ Get _ it!” Roman applauded, “Look at you! I see those fishnets, and that choker really tones your collarbones, oh and  _ honey _ that bead! Mmm!” He licked his lips.

“Oh  _ god _ , shut up…” Virgil groaned halfheartedly, though he was secretly very pleased with Roman’s compliments.

“All you need now, Steven End-Of-The-Universe, is some contour,” Roman declared, his eyes brightening at the idea, “Wait here!”

Before Virgil could breathe another word, Roman had sunk out of the bathroom. The room suddenly seemed very chilled without Roman’s exuberant presence. Virgil, now feeling slightly awkward, shifted his weight from hip to hip and waited. He waited, and waited, but after a few minutes with no Roman, Virgil sighed and began to gather up his belongings. He was about to leave when Roman sunk in, his hands filled with a brush and some containers with some powders. He looked so gleeful he could almost be Patton.

“Will you let me do your contour?” Roman asked, bouncing from foot to foot, his voice almost reaching a squeal of excitement. Virgil hadn’t heard him this excited since the ‘I’m in a Disney Show’ video. Not only did he did he not have the heart to crush that excitement, but he also would never admit that he very much wanted to wear more makeup now that Roman wouldn’t mock him for it.

And so Virgil found himself leaning against the cool sink, his hands gripping the ceramic with his chin tilted up as Roman gently brushed contour onto various points on his face. Roman was very quiet, only mumbling words of direction to Virgil (‘lean that way?’ ‘look up’), and gentle compliments (‘that’s good, hold that’ ‘Allllmost done, don’t worry’). He also muttered affirmative ‘mhms’ and ‘uh huhs’ to himself. Virgil felt shivers shoot up and down his spine when Roman gently used his fingertips to tilt his chin or turn his head to the side, and when he used the most delicate of brushstrokes as if he was afraid of breaking him.

“There!” Roman exclaimed suddenly after a minute or two of silence. Virgil jumped, eyes jolting open, and Roman squeezed his shoulder in apology. “Have a look!” the creative side said, turning Virgil around.

Virgil peeked into the mirror, and gave a scarcely audible gasp. Somehow, Roman had accentuated his cheekbones, his jawline, and his temples so that they seemed sharper, more defined. Alongside the dark, edgy colors of his eyeshadow, mascara, lipstick, and choker, Virgil felt...confident. Lifting his gloved hands, he fluffed his hair up until his bangs had returned to their rightful home. He momentarily forgot that Roman was in the room with him until when he let another experimental growl he heard Roman make a noise of shock but also pleasure. Virgil looked up into the mirror, making eye contact with Roman’s reflection with fear.

“ _ Daaammnn _ , boy!” Roman exclaimed, placing his hand over his heart and shooting reflection Virgil a sassy look, “You _ work _ that edge!”

Virgil chuckled, but blushed. Roman began to pack his belongings away, humming happily to himself before Virgil interrupted.

“Thanks, Roman,” he said, his tone not snarky in the slightest.

“Why, it was no trouble!” Roman exclaimed in his normal dynamic tones, shooting Virgil a wink as the anxious side turned around, “I have always wanted to do another person’s makeup, and you proved to be a good subject.”

“No, no, I don’t mean thanks just for that,” Virgil grumbled, waving his gloved hands with frustration. He huffed, hastily weighing his words and starting to cringe, “I mean...thanks for not.. _.judging _ .”

Virgil looked up after a moment of silence and saw Roman shooting him that soft smile. “Of course, Virgil,” he said sincerely.

Virgil grinned, and hastily slid back into his hoodie, finding comfort in his sweaterpaws.

“This reminds me!” Roman suddenly cried, raising his contour brush in a triumphant gesture, “Virgil, since you seemed to have read my mind by dressing in a feminine fashion as well today, would you want to help me plan a new Sanders Sides video? I was thinking it be about us designing our own makeup, kinda like we did our own outfits…”

Roman continued to talk, waving his hands and the makeup vanishing, and gestured for Virgil to follow him, all without barely taking a breath.

“Wait,” Virgil said, grabbing Roman’s arm, shocking the creative side into silence, “...Do you have any makeup remover? I don’t...I don’t know how the others…”

He trailed off, gesturing helplessly to his face and legs.

Roman smiled sympathetically. “I sincerely doubt that Logan and Patton will mind, Verge,” he said quietly, wrapping a comfortingly strong arm around Virgil’s hunched shoulders, “And besides, you won’t be the odd one out, remember?”

Roman gave his hips a small wiggle, sending the fabric of his skirt rustling. Virgil blushed, but pressed into Roman’s side as he giggled.

“So, you keep that makeup on, you handsome devil,” Roman said, winking and tugging him along gently, “Come on, let’s go show those fools what we’re made of. They won’t know what hit them!”

 

* * *

 

 

Virgil and Roman made their way to the mind palace commons, and they found Patton sitting at the kitchen table wearing his cat hoodie while sipping at a mug of hot chocolate. The moral side brightened when he saw them coming, but he let out a gasp when he saw them in greater detail.

“Well, don’t you boys just look so  _ cute _ !” Patton squealed, getting up and rushing over to look at them. Virgil’s blush deepened to astronomical levels when Patton cooed over his stockings, his gloves, and his lipstick. The anxious side was, although he would rather die than admit it, extremely grateful for Roman in that the creative side kept his arm wrapped around Virgil’s shoulder in a protective and comforting gesture.

“Oh kiddo, I  _ love _ those stockings! I never knew you could wear them with jeans like that! And your eyes look so  _ pretty _ !” Patton was saying, his hands pressed against his cheeks as he grinned hugely. His eyes were shining with pride, and before Virgil could say anything Patton engaged in one of his ‘proud father squealing moments’. He babbled incomprehensibly, but they all knew what Patton was trying to say was nice and complementary in nature.

“Oh and  _ Roman _ , you look as cute as ever,” Patton said once he regained some of his sense, turning next to Roman and gushing over his sandals, skirt, and crop top, “I should do more stuff like this! But...I could never give up the cat hoodie!”

“Well,” Roman said in a grand tone, “Verge and I were just beginning to plan a neat Sanders Sides video where we all indulge in our more feminine sides, so perhaps you could craft a look that uses your cat hoodie as well!”

Patton squealed again, and nodded. “Oh! Are we gonna have a family meeting to plan this? Let me go get Logan!”

Before either Virgil or Roman could say another word, Patton had bolted out of the room and into the direction of the logical side’s room. Virgil bit his lip to hold back a grin, but found his couldn’t when Roman ruffled up his hair.

“I told you he wouldn't mind,” Roman said in a teasing tone.

“Oh, shut up,” Virgil hissed, smacking his hand away, though his wide smile and deep dimples said more than enough for Roman to understand that the anxious side was finally, _ finally _ feeling comfortable.  

* * *

 

 

Meanwhile, Patton was knocking on Logan’s door. The moral side was still grinning like a fool over Virgil. Patton had been worrying for ages about how Virgil would integrate into their family, and as the weeks went by after ‘Fitting In’ and ‘Moving On’, Virgil still didn’t seem entirely comfortable. But Logan and Roman had assured him that it would take anyone a while to get used to so drastic a change, and Virgil especially would take a while. Patton had wanted Virgil to be his dorky, misunderstood, edgy son  _ right now _ , but alas, that had not been the case.

But here, he had just seen Virgil...what did Roman call it? _ Dragging _ . That certainly was the correct term. Virgil looked so... _ shy _ . And that was momentous in Patton’s book, because he usually looked paranoid and afraid. Patton felt tears prickling uncomfortably in his eyes as a great sense of paternal pride swept over him.

“Hello? Did someone knock?” came a voice from inside the room. Patton jumped, torn from his trance, “That better not be Roman”-there was a sound of flashcards shuffling- “‘Ding dong ditching’ me again.”

“Oh, no, Lo!” Patton sang out, pushing open the door and positively bouncing into Logan’s room. He beamed at the logical side, who was seated as stiff as a rake at his desk, a calendar and an array of notes and books spread out before him. He looked tired, though he gave a tiny grin upon seeing Patton coming towards him with unusual exuberance.

“Hello, Patton,” Logan said quietly in greeting, resuming his work as the moral side could be heard sinking onto his bed, “Is there anything you need from me?”

“Yeah!” Paton immediately answered with such energy that Logan felt himself turning around to stare at the moral side. Patton never sounded this enthused unless there was a dog in Thomas’s immediate line of sight or else Thomas was hanging out with his friends, and, as far as Logan knew, neither of those scenarios were taking place at present.

Logan smiled despite his mounting frustration at Patton’s lack of elaboration. “What is exciting you so, Patton? Has there been another dog sighting?”

Patton was hugging one of Logan’s pillows to his chest, and he was wiggling in his characteristic happy dance. He took a huge breath, and Logan braced himself for a confusing torrent of loosely connected run on sentences.

“Well, Roman has a new idea he wants us all to talk about and I  _ really like it _ , they’re both out in the commons waiting for us,  and Virgil is dragging and he looks so cute, I think he’s  _ finally _ getting comfortable with us and that he’s really accepting himself as a part of the family and-”

“Hold on, I’m confused,” Logan said waving his hand to metaphorically put a pacifier in Patton’s mouth, “You say that Virgil is being  _ dragged _ ?”

Patton bobbed his head excitedly. “Yeah! I think Roman dragged him up because Virgil can’t do it himself very well yet, but he’s at least getting comfortable enough with it to get dragged when he’s around us!”

Patton beamed at Logan and awaited his response. His face fell when he saw Logan’s eyebrow arch. “I don’t believe that we are on the same page,” Logan said, sighing as he reached for his flashcards.

“Well, why’s that Logan? I told you, Virgil is dragging-”

“What, do you mean Virgil is forcibly being dragged around by Roman?” Logan hissed, his frustration mounting as he failed to find a slang word that aptly described what Patton was talking about, “I should think that you had the sense to stop them from physically abusing one another, Patton, yes?”

Logan looked up after there was a moment of silence from Patton. He cursed himself when he saw that Patton’s gaze was downcast and that he was fumbling with the pom-poms of the cat hoodie, his sleeves pulled over his hands in...ah, yes, sweaterpaws.

“I apologize, Patton,” Logan said quietly, reaching over and gently squeezing the moral side’s knee, “I know that you wouldn’t be in such high spirits if Roman and Virgil were fighting. I, obviously, am missing something, and I have wrongly grown frustrated with you. I could use your guidance. Could you perhaps describe what you mean by ‘dragging’?”

Patton lifted his head, his eyes once more gleaming with happiness. Logan smiled; he knew all was forgiven.

“Well, Virgil, and Roman too, now that I think on it, are both wearing, like, really cute makeup and Virgil’s got these stockings under his ripped jeans, and Roman’s wearing a _ full face _ of makeup with a crop top and a skirt and sandals and that’s what I mean by they’re dragging!” Patton said, his body wiggling with excitement again as he hugged the pillow even tighter to himself if that were possible.

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle, and shake his head as he finally understood what Patton meant. “Ah! You mean that they are ‘dressing in drag’.”

Patton nodded. “Yeah, they’re dragging!”

Logan smiled fondly at the wonderfully innocent side before him. “I imagine that you are happy at this development because it means that Virgil is finally learning to be comfortable with all facets of himself when in our presence.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Patton cheered, “Man, you read my mind sometimes, Logan.”

“Great minds think alike,” Logan quipped, and rose, extending his hand to help Patton up, “I too am relieved that Virgil is growing more and more comfortable with this family unit. Now, let us go out; I am interested in seeing this dragging.”

Patton giggled, and linked his hand with Logan’s as he began to walk towards the door. Logan, despite his misgivings, did not let go; he understood that this was one of Patton’s confusing ways at showing affection.

“Oh, and Virgil’s got this choker too!” Patton cried as he remember the newfangled garment Virgil had had on his neck.

Logan paused midstep, his eyebrows raised in alarm. “A  _ choker _ ?!” he asked, staring with incredulity at the nonchalance of Patton’s tone and expression.

“Yeah! I really think he likes it.”

“...You mean Virgil actively has a person who chokes him? A person he willingly lets strangle him? Is this person Roman too?” Logan spluttered, many things running past his mind. Logan was no novice in the rituals of all things sexual in nature; he had heard of kinks somewhere in his readings, “...I wasn’t aware that any of us besides Roman experienced sexual attraction, much less in that...manner. But if Virgil likes that...well...”

Patton gasped, a blush brushing his cheeks. He covered Logan’s mouth with his hand, his expression shocked. “Logan, that’s  _ naughty _ !” he scolded.

“Ah gid dah feewing da wurr nah un da aim pace ahgin,” Logan mumbled against Patton’s palm.

Patton shot furtive glances up and down the hallway before removing his hands both from Logan’s mouth and Logan’s other hand. He was shooting Logan his fatherly ‘choose your words wisely, young man’ look.

“I get the feeling that we’re not on the same page again,” Logan repeated quietly, “What do  _ you _ mean by choker?”

“I  _ mean _ ,” Patton muttered, gesturing to his neck, “That Virgil has one of those black bands ladies sometimes wear! You know, the stretchy kind? I think Thomas’s friend Britney wears them sometimes.”

Logan blinked and recalled seeing both through images in his research and through Thomas’s eyes the kind of garment Patton was describing. Logan had always likened it to a dog collar, and this logic was what was currently preventing Thomas from actively buying one. But perhaps Logan was wrong in doing this, seeing as no one else he knew of seemed to think of them in the same way.

Then, his eyes flew open wide.

Oh, dear.

“Sweet Madame Curie,” Logan exclaimed, running a hand through his hair in embarrassment, “We weren’t on the same page at all, now were we?”

Patton smiled and shook his head, reaching for Logan’s hand again. They continued to walk down the hallway, Roman and Virgil’s voices growing louder as they did so.

“I hope you can forgive my crude conclusions, Patton,” Logan murmured before they broke out into the commons.

Patton smiled over at him and squeezed his hand. “That’s OK, Lo! You didn’t know.”

Logan looked up when silence fell over the commons. His eyes alighted on Roman and Virgil, who were leaning on the fridge and sitting on the counter respectively.

Virgil almost felt like vomiting at the sight of Logan stopping dead in his tracks and staring at him.

_ Express to Outcast Land arriving in T minus 30 seconds! _ The intrusive voice in his head tittered. He shook his head, and squeezed the hem of his hoodie, kicking his legs to alleviate his increasing anxiety. Logan was shooting him that analytical look, as if Virgil was a puzzle that needed to be solved. But Virgil wasn’t a puzzle, he was a  _ person _ .

“Logan!” Roman said with great enthusiasm, causing Virgil to jump and squeak with alarm, “You see before you the next idea for the ‘Sanders Sides’ series!”

Roman glanced over at Virgil, who was looking significantly paler, and wrapped his arm around the anxious side’s shoulder once more. He was pleased and relieved when Virgil involuntarily leaned into the gesture.

Logan nodded slowly, taking off his glasses and wiping them with the cloth he kept in his breast pocket. Placing them carefully back on the bridge of his nose, he relieved the mounting tension of the entire room by shooting Roman and Virgil a soft smile.

“I can certainly see an idea in the making,” he responded, “...And I must admit that if I, the logical side, find admiration for you both at the sight of your new drag styles, then I can only picture the admiration of potential viewers.”

Logan nodded to Virgil. “Virgil, I am immensely pleased to see you comfortable enough with us to indulge in your drag-ly desires. You present an aura of intimidating beauty that I can only aspire to.”

Virgil gaped at Logan, his jaw physically dropping. He felt that now familiar blush heating his cheeks at Logan’s kind words. Logan had never complimented him in this fashion before. He glanced at Patton, who was gazing proudly first at Logan, then at Virgil, and then at Roman. Virgil was surprised that he didn’t physically explode with his feelings; he was quite literally vibrating with what was undoubtedly pride and intense happiness.

“T-Thanks, Logan,” Virgil mumbled, bunching his hands into tighter sweaterpaws in his lap and forcing his legs to still.

“No problem. Now, Roman, I must first say that you too have a certain level of royal beauty to you as well, and then I must secondly say that now is a good time for us all to plan the next video. I have an inkling as to what you are planning, and though I have misgivings at this point, I am willing to do whatever makes you both comfortable.” Logan said, gesturing for them all to join him at the table.

Virgil breathed an inaudible sigh of relief, intense happiness forming a lump in his throat. The glee at dressing in a feminine nature he had felt in the isolated bathroom just ten minutes ago was no longer laced with guilt. He felt safe, happy, and confident, something he rarely, if ever, felt around the others. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, and as he slid off the counter, he couldn’t help but admire how his legs looked with the fishnets. He looked up, and he didn’t see a single judging look.

Never in a million years would anyone ever be able to make Virgil admit that he was on the verge of bursting into relieved and happy tears at that point.

But he couldn’t cry. That would mess up his mascara!

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, gang! It's ya boi. I got this prompt on Tumblr, and it helped me explore my own dysphoria, so have a read!


End file.
